


Smudges

by Hogwartsowls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Character, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, general deamus adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hogwartsowls/pseuds/Hogwartsowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sketches Seamus... a lot. He has whole sketch books dedicated to Seamus. Seamus finds one and Dean's Saturday gets turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smudges

For once the sixth year Gryffindor boys’ dorms were empty. Blissfully empty Dean thought as he stretched out on his bed, his sketch pad on his lap, his hands already stained with charcoal. His fingers brushed the pencil deftly over the paper, lines emerging and fitting together to create a perfect picture. He relaxed back into his pillows and stopped sketching to study the drawing.

His eyebrows don’t look quite right Dean decided and quickly added a few strokes of black to the offending brows. He touched up a few strands of hair before putting his charcoal away. The face on the page looked lifelike.

Seamus’s charcoal eyes stared up at Dean with wonder, his lips quirked in a smile. His cheekbones were shaded in a way that mimicked a flush from the cold. His hair was windswept and half hidden beneath a wool hat as a scarf billowed around his neck in imaginary wind. Dean could picture bright blue eyes, sandy blond hair, and creamy skin dusted a rosy pink.

Seamus was almost always the subject of Dean’s sketches. In fact, he had a whole shelf at home dedicated solely to sketch books filled with Seamus. Seamus sitting in the Great Hall; Seamus chewing on his quill in class; Seamus, his face cover in soot from yet another explosion in Potions; Seamus sitting in the common room; Seamus outside in the fall, winter, spring and summer; Seamus walking in the door to the dormitory just like he was now.

Dean startled and slammed the book shut. He silently cursed his stupidity. Now the charcoal would smudge everywhere.

“What’s that ya got there?” Seamus asked. He kicked off his shoes and plopped himself down next to Dean. He swung his legs onto the bed and rested back against the pillows. Dean was acutely aware of Seamus’s hip resting against his own.

“N-nothing,” Dean stuttered.

Seamus took note of the open box of charcoal pencils lying between them. “You’ve been drawing again, haven’t you? Can I see?”

Dean hugged the sketch pad close. “W-why would you want to see?”

“Yer stammering again, Dean. You only do that when yer nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Dean said, carefully enunciating each word.

“Then why won’t you look me take a peek at yer drawing?” Seamus asked. “I’m yer best friend. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve drawn.”

“Because I don’t want you to see,” Dean said defensively. “It’s personal.”

“You didn’t draw anything nasty did you?”

Dean could feel his ears grow hot. “N-no I d-didn’t draw anything nasty.”

“Then why can’t I look?”

“Because I said no.”

“Why not?”

“I already told you. It’s personal.”

“So personal that ye can’t even show yer best friend?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bull.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why can’t I see it?”

Frustrated, Dean got off the bed and launched the sketch pad at Seamus’s head. “Fine! Take a look you nosy bastard!”

Seamus grinned gleefully. Dean heard the fluttering sound of pages being turned. He didn’t dare turn around. His eyes welled up with tears and he brushed them away furiously. He couldn’t believe he let Seamus look at his sketches.

“You sure do draw me an awful lot,” Seamus commented.

“That one is all you,” Dean muttered, still facing away from the bed.

“Are there more?”

Dean nodded. “At home.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know. That’s the fourth one this year.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugged.

Seamus turned some more pages. “This one is my favourite,” he said after a while.

Dean turned around. Seamus was holding the sketch pad out so Dean could see the drawing. It was one he had done a few weeks ago. Seamus was sitting on the couch in the common room, his head thrown back in laughter. Dean had sketched himself beside him, smiling fondly at him. The blurry figures of Harry and Ron playing chess, Hermione curled up on an arm chair with a book and Neville writing an essay filled in the background. His eyes were continuously drawn to Seamus, as they usually were when he sketched group shots.

“It’s the only one I’ve found so far that had you in it.”

Dean looked up to meet Seamus’s eyes. “I don’t like to draw myself.”

Seamus turned the book back around and flipped a few more drawings. Dean scuffed the toe of his shoe against the bedpost.

“Is this the one you were working on when I came in?” Seamus asked.

Dean looked up but Seamus was still studying the drawing. With a sigh he sat back down on the bed and glanced at the sketch over Seamus’s shoulder.

Just as he’d thought, the charcoal had smudged horribly. Streaks shot up in all directions, blurring the facial features. Dean had worked so hard on those eyes. His putty was completely black from erasing them so many times.

“It’ll be hell to fix,” Dean said. “I’ll need more putty and paper pencils and –”

“Ye don’t have to fix it,” Seamus said. “It looks good the way it is.”

Dean scoffed. “No it doesn’t. It’s ruined.”

“I like it.”

Dean rolled his eyes and lay back against the pillows. Beside him, Seamus carefully closed the sketch book and set it and the charcoal on the side table. The silence between them was strained and awkward.

“Dean?” Seamus asked after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you draw me so much?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I just do.”

“Did ye ever draw Ginny?”

“Not really, no. I draw Mum and my sisters a bit and send them off with my letters. And sometimes I’ll sketch the grounds and the forest.”  


“So I’m the only person ye really draw, yeah?”

Dean nodded.

Seamus thought for a minute. “Do you fancy me, Dean?”

“W-w-what? W-where did you g-get that idea f-from?” Dean sputtered.

Seamus shrugged. “It makes sense if ye think about it. I’m the only one you really sketch; ye’ve got lots of sketch books of just me and ye get all stammer-y and don’t want to show ‘em to me. Plus, you know I’m bent.”

“I dated Ginny!”

“Maybe yer just confused.”

Dean shuffled down farther on the bed, his knees bent at awkward angles in order to fit.

“Have you ever kissed a bloke, Dean?”

“No!” Dean said sharply. “And neither have you.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

Dean groaned and closed his eyes. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“Because you’ve admitted to having multiple sketch books of just me because you really don’t draw anyone else,” Seamus said.

“Have you considered the fact that I draw you because you’re my best friend?”

“Best friends don’t draw pictures of their best friend like this,” Seamus said, brandishing the sketch book again. He had it open to one of Dean’s personal favourites – Seamus lying against a tree in the early fall, eyes closed as the setting sun cast shadows all around him.

Dean snatched the book and dropped it on the floor on his side of the bed.

“I sketch you so much because you’re my best friend,” Dean said softly. Seamus wiggled so he was lying next to him. “I see you every day and sometimes I get really inspired. That doesn’t mean that I fancy you.”

“I think it does,” Seamus said, equally softly. He reached out and took Dean’s hand in his own. Dean’s dark skin contrasted beautifully with Seamus’s and Dean’s fingers itched for some charcoal to sketch with.

“I’ve only ever dated girls. I don’t even know if I like blokes,” Dean replied. He watched as Seamus’s pale thumb brushed over his hand, smudging charcoal until his skin was dark. “How did you know?”

Seamus looked over at him. “That I was gay? It was simple really: bloke parts are better than bird parts.”

“What if I like both?” Dean asked quietly. He had never voiced this thought out loud but it felt good to say it to Seamus.

“Then you like both. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Seamus said honestly.

Dean looked over at Seamus. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “is the closest I’ve been with another bloke. I’ve never kissed a bloke before.”

“I know,” Seamus said, wiggling closer. “And you know I haven’t either.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said glancing down quickly at Seamus’s mouth before his eyes darted back up to meet Seamus’s.

“Can I kiss you, Dean?” Seamus whispered.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed.

He barely had time to shut his eyes before Seamus’s lips brushed his own. Gently, Dean pressed back against Seamus’s mouth. It was a bit like kissing Ginny, Dean thought, before pushing the thought out of his head. He wasn’t going to think of Ginny while he was kissing Seamus.

After a moment, Seamus pulled away. Dean opened his eyes and grinned dopily to match Seamus.

“How’s it feel kissing a bloke,” Seamus asked.

“Brilliant,” Dean replied.

“Better or worse than kissing a bird?”

Dean thought for a moment. “About the same, but for different reasons.”

Seamus nodded. “Glad you figured that out.”

Dean smiled and squeezed their still joined hands. “Can I kiss you again?”

Seamus smiled, a rosy blush adorning his cheeks. Dean leaned in and Seamus met him in the middle. Their lips pressed confidently together, parting and coming back together as they each took breaths. Seamus rolled so he was straddling Dean’s hips and rested his hand against Dean’s cheek. Dean lips turned up into a smile. His arms wrapped around Seamus’s trim waist and his tongue traced the seal of his lips. Seamus opened his mouth willingly and the kiss turned into a full snog.

Eventually they broke away and Dean sat up with Seamus still perched in his lap.

“I’m definitely bisexual,” Dean said with a laugh. He leaned in and kissed Seamus’s nose. “Thank you for being my first kiss.”

Seamus wrinkled his nose cutely. “I thought Ginny was your first kiss.”

“She was my first kiss with a bird. You were my first kiss with a bloke.”

“You were my first kiss with a bloke too,” Seamus said with a grin. He pecked Dean on the lips once more before hopping off the bed and holding out his hand. “Come one, I came up here to bring you down for dinner. I got a little sidetracked.”

Dean took the offered hand and climbed off the bed. Seamus slipped on his shoes before reaching for Dean’s hand again, threading their fingers together.

“Do you want to tell people?” Dean asked.

“What, that we snogged?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather tell them something better,” Seamus said. He chewed half of his lip into his mouth, a tick he had when he was unsure of something.

“Like what?”

“That you’re my boyfriend?”

Dean went hot all over. His skin was dark enough that you couldn’t see a blush easily but he was positive that Seamus could see his skin turn red. He nodded slowly.

Seamus’s smile was radiant. He stretched up onto the tips of his toes and managed to press a kiss to Dean’s chin. Dean grinned and leaned down so Seamus could reach his lips.

“Do you think anyone will mind?” Dean asked. “I mean, I did date Ginny.”

“Nah, she’s off mooning at Harry again. She won’t care. And Harry’s too oblivious to notice anything so he won’t be a problem. Besides, if anyone gives us any trouble, we can introduce them to one of Hagrid’s blast-end screwts.” Seamus led them down the stairs and into the empty common room, their hands still joined.

Dean smiled. When he woke up that Saturday morning he never imagined he would be walking down to dinner with Seamus after they snogged on his bed.

“What cha grinning about?” Seamus asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking that this all happened because of some smudged charcoal.”

“Yer such a sap,” Seamus said, knocking his hip against Dean’s leg. They had reached the Great Hall. “Now come on, we’re going to eat supper and after that yer going to draw me a picture.”

“You can have any one you want from my books,” Dean said.

“I don’t mean one of those. I want one of you.”

“Now who’s the sap?”

“Shut up,” Seamus said. “Come on, I smell Sheppard’s Pie.”


End file.
